


Barking Up A Different Tree

by sp201120122013



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp201120122013/pseuds/sp201120122013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way, author-artist extraordinaire, is in need of a prop to be constructed for his debut cosplay of Party Poison--the character of his new comic, Killjoys. Since the prop happens to be a large furry mascot head, Gerard forgoes striking an alliance with Disney and instead scours the internet for a "furry" to make it for him. However, the new relationship extends far past a business contract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barking Up A Different Tree

It wasn't a sex thing.

 

That was what he told himself as he combed through page after page of graphic, costumed animal fucking on the Internet. He had four tabs of the stuff open at the moment, with his clock glowing 2:44 in the dark room beside his blindingly white desktop screen. The images didn't include real animals, no. Even if it had been a sex thing, it definitely wouldn't have been a bestiality thing. It was simply research. Research for costumery, since deadmau5 wouldn't return his phone calls on anything specific about the mascot head and telephoning Disneyland was absolutely out of the question. As much as "Mousekat" might resemble Mickey, he was skirting enough legal technicalities right now with attempting to build the head in the first place. Maybe it did look too much like Mickey. But it was a pop culture nod, and frankly none of Disney's business.

 

As one of the most acclaimed "up and coming" comic book artists under the Dark Horse label, "intern-turned-innovator" Gerard Way was flying on the success of his last big project, the "Umbrella Academy," and working on his next, "The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys." He had several promotion events on his calendar scheduled for it, but the biggest was of course San Diego Comic Con. As one of the biggest artists/writers of the year, he had a prime panel scheduled in one of the biggest rooms in the center. It was also during a prime time slot, ensuring just how much confidence the industry, the fans, and even the convention had in what his next work was going to be. 

 

This, of course, put a lot of pressure on the kid who used to run around as "Gerry" Way--or rather, flap around "on raven's wings." That one had been a flop, but it was irrelevant. Everyone had a small flop at the beginning, but Gerard's had gone so far under the radar, it didn't even matter. Especially because two years after that flop, he had gone on to sell Cartoon Network one of their most popular series ever--The Breakfast Monkey. With seven seasons starting in 2001, it had ended after a solid final episode in mid-2008, with Gerard bidding the cartoon world behind to focus on more "mature" projects. There wasn't any misconception to be had, Breakfast Monkey had been his life, his passion. But just like Joss Whedon and Buffy, Gerard decided to end the series on a strong final note rather than drag it out any longer.

 

Dragging it out was for the still rabid fanbase, who often showed up to Gerard's convention appearances in full costume--yes, as the monkey. He had even seen one cosplayer waddling around in a costume of Crazy Boy's noble fishy steed. The construction in their outfits was exquisite. After his introduction of the Umbrella Academy, with its highly diverse cast, he had only seen fan cosplays improve (and skyrocket in numbers). At cons, Umbrella Academy cosplayers were second only to kids in store bought Naruto costumes running around, and Gerard always smirked whenever he saw how great the quality gap was between his fans and all those other fans. They frothed over him and his designs, always trying to make their costumes bigger and better. Gerard smirked whenever he walked by them now, smirking through photographs as he thought about what a hard time they were going to have cosplaying the characters from Killjoys once it came out. 

 

He had kept his new comic highly under wraps, only leaking a few teaser videos onto Youtube. They hinted at the antagonist, Better Living Industries, and a plot point in the story, but there was nothing on the main characters yet. Concept sketches and poster designs were papered every free wall space in his studio, but the public had seen nothing. And they were going crazy about it. Some fan theorists were speculating that "Killjoys" was just an Umbrella Academy spinoff, and Gerard scoffed at that. They were completely different, he wasn't so unoriginal as to release the same project under a different name. Others were already whipping together cosplays of the Better Living Industries face, making masks and selling them on DeviantArt and Etsy shops. Gerard never trailed them down for copyrights. He figured he was making enough money, he was no Walt Disney. If the fans wanted to make and market their little trinkets, it was simply less work he had to do in meetings with Dark Horse. He could keep official merchandise down to t-shirts and keychains, and if he was really after a profit, he could simply mark up the price. Not that he would, though. And if he did, it at least wouldn't be that often. 

 

Gerard had seen some of the fan works on DeviantArt while browsing for other things, although the other sites he had up did not have knock-off merchandise of his comics so readily available. With the same keyword typed into search bars on DeviantArt, FurAffinity, Google, and Tumblr, respectively, Gerard was looking for someone to help him with his own cosplay. It was how he was going to debut his newest main character, Party Poison. He had decided it several weeks ago after months of frustration trying to figure out how he was going to blow the fans away at his panel. With an appointment to dye his hair red in six weeks, his commissioned costume (done by one of the best movie costumers in L.A.) was hanging up in the closet and ready to wear in seven--the date of Comic Con. Everything was under control except the final, most important part of the costume. Mousekat's head. And goddamn deadmau5 for refusing to phone him back. 

 

Mousekat was Party Poison's thing. That was what his character was known for in the zones, and Gerard could not, under any circumstances, cosplay Poison without the head. For one, it was essential to the character, and for two, it would camouflage his identity and give Gerard the dramatic entrance to his panel that he so badly needed. And the only other people he knew who specialized in giant animal mascot heads, well, those were the furries. The weirdos from the bowels of the internet who liked to make their own costumes to dress up like their anthropomorphized animal characters and then have sex with each other. Gerard wasn't into that. That was why he had been clear to establish with himself, before searching the web, that it really, really wasn't a sex thing. It was business related.

 

The business he was in involved him typing "fursuit" into every site he could think of, scrolling past works in progress, deformed paper mache atrocities, latex beasts, and a few really good full-bodied suits. That was the problem he was facing. He was only finding full-bodied, cartoony, neon suits. That was it. That was all he could find, scrolling late into the night and getting progressively more frustrated as the California morning sun began to trickle through the blinds of his window. He told himself that he would only look through one more page per search window, and clicked on the "next" button for each with building frustration. Tumblr only had porn, DeviantArt had colored pencil fanart of Sonic to offer, and Google was  absolutely useless when searching for fursuit suppliers. When it came to matters of furries, he may as well have used Bing. He closed out of those windows, leaving only FurAffinity open. 

 

And there, at the very bottom of the page, he saw what he was looking for.

 

Clicking the link to PumpkinPup's profile, Gerard finally had the delight of finding plush, full mascot heads. The quality of the craftsmanship in these mad deadmau5's head look like a cheap joke. Gerard's chubby cheeks pushed themselves upward and his small teeth slid out of their gums into a smile, even his organic teeth looking false compared to the synthetic sets of canines PumpkinPup had inserted into his fursona heads. Eagerly, Gerard searched for a "message" button, his palms growing sweaty on the mouse. He could already see how some of the suits could be modified for his purposes, heads to be popped off and rearranged, pink fur replaced with blue, ears perked up and bug eyes popped into round, waiting sockets.

 

Of course, Gerard hadn't yet realized the complication involved that required him to first create a FurAffinity account for himself. After a painstaking hour of checking and double checking e-mail addresses, creating a password, and mostly attempting to come up with a username, he finally settled on the name "UMBRELLA_Dragon." He figured "MOUSEKAT" to be far too obvious, Party_Poison as well, and GERARD-Way was absolutely out of the question. Aside from that, the name revived fond memories of playing "Sorcerers and Knights," a backyard make-believe game he and his younger brother Mikey had engaged in as a child. And aside from the fond memory of his childhood, it also provided him with a fond memory of his best selling comic book (and its Eisner award). Once he had successfully created his account, he set about to messaging PumpkinPup.

 

_hey. i'm not a member of the community, but i am searching for a very specific costume commission and found your work. i have lots of $$$$. will treat you well. need 1 mascot head completed in less than a month. name your price._

 

_\--UD_

 

Satisfied with the message, Gerard closed out of the furry website and returned to his normal e-mail account. Normally he didn't type in lowercase, nor did he type in such abridged and halted sentences, but he felt that he didn't need to maintain the same level of professionalism that he normally did when dealing with business matters. He didn't consider this a business matter, and he didn't consider the furry to be a real professional, either. It was probably more likely that the guy just worked at Taco Bell and stitched together animal costumes in between the Fourth Meal shift getting off and the dinner time rush beginning. Instead of sleeping, or jerking off, or whatever people like that did. Gerard wasn't so concerned. He was functioning on a higher plane, and simply seeking a service. If PumpkinPup knew Gerard's true identity, he'd surely cry into his hands and beg to make a gift out of the head. Gerard was doing him a service by hiding his identity and offering payment in the first place. He certainly could get away with doing otherwise, if he really wished.

 

The next day, however, PumpkinPup still hadn't replied. This Gerard found to be peculiar. He returned to the idea of this guy working at Taco Bell, but still. Surely he had to be checking the furry site for updates on his wolf porn, or whatever. Not to mention to check for important messages such as the one Gerard had sent. Certainly, a commission for a potentially large sum of money had to take priority over everything else. It should easily take priority over the minimum wage. But another day passed, and a second day after that. Three days. Far too long for anyone to wait for a reply, much less Gerard. Much less Gerard Way, renowned author/artist with a time clock ticking down to a convention appearance.

 

He sent a second message.

 

_hey. just checking up again on that commission. i'm very serious about offering you a large amount of money for this head. but i have a schedule i need to adhere to. you're the best crafter i've seen, but if you don't get back to me i'm going to have to find someone else. please respond quickly to this. i really want to have a piece of your work._

 

_\--UD_

 

As opposed to the hours after he spent after sending his initial message, Gerard spent these hours pacing around his living space restlessly, refreshing and refreshing his message page on FurAffinity. He tried to work on another chapter of Killjoys (in advance, of course), tried to plot out another storyline of the Umbrella Academy, but he simply couldn't concentrate on anything. He was becoming anxious over the whole situation. Uncomfortably, irrationally anxious.

 

He could easily commission someone else. He could pull out his name, his fame, he could probably find a Hollywood designer to slap the head together for him. And it would look good, certainly. It would probably be done at a quicker pace as well. The problem was, he didn't want someone else to complete the costume for him. What he had seen on PumpkinPup's profile had been perfect. It fit his sketches, the image he held in his head of what Mousekat should be, it fit everything. The only thing that wasn't fitting was a digital message into his inbox.

 

Gerard sat down again, huffing and double clicking on the "inbox" button again. Nothing. He stood up as abruptly as he had sat down, kicking his rolling chair and getting up to make some dinner for himself. He didn't taste the food, swallowing it quickly and ignoring the texture. If it weren't for the sauce stained dishes, he wouldn't even remembered what he had prepared for himself. That was the extent to which he was preoccupied with the entire ordeal. He returned to his computer, gaping at the screen before refreshing again. He had to have seen it by now.

 

And PumpkinPup, whoever he may be, had finally responded.

 

_Hey! Sorry about the wait, I was at a con of my own all weekend :). Pennsylvania Furfest is the Fur-best! Haha, sorry. I was real busy though. Anyway, what kind of suit are you after? You said you only wanted a head, are you sure? If you're interested in a partial fursuit, I could give you some footpaws and handpaws too. Maybe even a tail if that's what you're after! :) Anyway, do you have any sketches or pictures of your character? If not, you can describe him/her to me and I'll do the best I can with it. I'll also need your measurements so I can fit the suit to your head and all that. You're really lucky to have caught me right after this con--all my commission slots are free up! Looking forward to hearing from you soon :)_

 

_\--PumpkinPup <3_

 

Gerard typed a response immediately, with much greater haste than PumpkinPup had responded to him. Gerard wasn't doodling around at some furry convention in who knows where on the east coast, he had Comic-Con to worry about. Far, far more important. He was sure to express his urgency in his typing, not only in the way his words appeared on the screen, but also the way that his fingers quickly banged out a response on the keyboard. He was ticked off, he had to admit. His commission should've been at least important enough to respond with an email to over the weekend. There was always internet access at conventions. Gerard almost felt hurt.

 

_I'm sending you a file of my character as an attachment. Do NOT spread this picture around. I have reasons. Let's just say it's an original character of mine that I don't want to get stolen. I've also included my measurements. My sketches should be more than sufficient to help you create the head. I need it in three weeks. Also, if you're East Coast based, I'm going to need you to ship it out to me. I live in California. Please look at the sketches and get back to me ASAP. Thanks._

 

_\--UD_

 

Gerard had switched back into his more formal style of typing as a result of his stress over the whole ordeal. He blamed himself for perhaps coming off as unprofessional in the first place. Perhaps the problem had been PumpkinPup failing to take him seriously. Not that the repeated smiling faces on PumpkinPup's part had been particularly professional either, but that wasn't the point. He sighed, slumping back into his chair and going back to refreshing and refreshing his screen for another half hour. PumpkinPup didn't respond in that time. Gerard eventually gave up and went to sleep, and when he awoke the next day, there were no new messages in his inbox then either. He went to his usual meetings, ran his usual errands, and came home to check his email again. And again, there was nothing. It took three more days for PumpkinPup to respond to him again, despite many frustrated and demanding messages sent on behalf of "UMBRELLA_Dragon." 

 

After nearly an entire week of time had been lost, PumpkinPup responded.

 

_Sorry about the wait again! Got caught up in the 9-5 grind. Anyway, here are some sketches and design plans I drew up based on what you sent me :). They should fit your measurements just fine, but I'll be sure to give the head hole a little leeway (just in case! :) ). And in terms of price, I'm just charging you $250 above my usual rate due to the special materials you're after. So it'll be about $800. If that sounds good, we can see about settling that over Paypal (I require $$$ in advance, it's in my terms page.)_

 

_Also, this wouldn't by chance be for Comic-Con, would it? Just a hunch ;). If it is, I'm actually going to be out in Diego for the week leading up to the con and the con itself. So if you want, I can just pack it with me and deliver to it in person. It would probably be easier._

 

_Looking forward to doing business with you!_

 

_\--PumpkinPup <3_

 

_\-------------_

 

Several weeks worth of anxiety and pacing later, Gerard finally found himself at the airport, waiting with a sign in his hands that was screaming "FRANK" in large red letters. That was PumpkinPup's actual name, apparently. Gerard had asked because (frankly) over his dead body would he hold up a sign with the words "PumpkinPup" on it. He had already been recognized for holding up the plain Frank sign, fans flying in early for the convention, screeching enthusiastically to him about the new comic. He always smiled, tipped his head down for a photograph, and bid them well wishes while, of course, never giving away a single plot detail. 

 

Speaking of giving away plot details, Gerard really hoped that Frank wasn't going to be carrying that thing around for the entire airport to see. He had seen it, of course, seen progress photographs and final snapshots before finalizing the payment--Gerard wasn't going to pay for a less than stellar product, absolutely not. But the head itself was more than stellar, better than he could've dreamed of. If not for his pride in his own work, he would've even said it turned out better than his concept sketches. He wouldn't admit it to Frank, an amateur to his professional, but all in all it was on par with some of the best costumers in the business.

 

He was beginning to get impatient, tapping his foot against the tile of the airport floor as he checked his watch again. The flight wasn't delayed, he knew that much to be fact. There was no reason for Frank to be taking so long. Gerard looked around again, searching for someone fat and greasy. Surely, that's what people who are into anime animals fucking must look like. When he heard someone shout out his name to him, he turned around to a surprise.

 

The "Pup" in PumpkinPup made more sense, as Frank was about the height of a puppy. That was referring to how stunted he was for an adult man, with a little pudge hanging around his cheeks but certainly not the three hundred plus pounds Gerard had been expecting. In a plain gray shirt and jeans, Frank didn't fit the weirdo image well either. Gerard lowered his sunglasses down to Frank as a means of greeting, eyeballing a large box that Frank was struggling to carry in addition to three large suitcases that were being hauled behind him on a cart. 

 

"And here's one custom _mascot head_ for the evasive, elusive Gerard Way," Frank said, presenting the box to Gerard with a smirk.

 

"How did you know my last name?" Gerard snapped, wrenching the box from him. "I never--"

 

Frank snickered into his hand, bringing it up to cover his mouth. "You think I can't put a few pieces together? Someone named Gerard, stinking rich, living in California, needing a costume head for Comic Con? Please. You may have only told me your first name, but I'm not stupid, man."

 

Gerard meant to open his mouth with a clever rebuttal, but Frank had already preoccupied himself with a cellphone. "Anyway, I was hoping we could negotiate price details," Frank said, tapping away at the screen of it nonchalantly.

 

"Like I said, name it. I'm not short for cash, as I suppose you can figure out by now."

 

"Sure, but how are you on space?" Frank asked, blinking up from his phone.

 

"Space?"

 

"Yeah, it turns out my hotel reservations didn't process. So I'm shit out of luck for the upcoming week, as well as the con itself. I was hoping that instead of a cash payment, I could see about staying wherever you are? It's a little forward of me, but everything else is booked. I can pay you for the room even, if need be. I guess I'm just seeing if I can charge you in courtesy."

 

Gerard was somewhat taken aback at the request. He rarely took roommates at cons, only even letting his editor room with him once, several years ago. However, he had already booked himself a hotel room, and when he thought about it, it was money he had already spent. If he tucked his backpack away in a closet for a couple nights to make room for Frank on one of the other queen size beds in the room, that was upwards of eight hundred dollars he would be able to save and put towards other things--such as tantalizing items at the con itself. So he agreed, telling Frank that he could absolutely stay with him. That it would be no trouble at all.

 

\------------

 

It was no trouble at all until they arrived at Gerard's house, until Gerard was fluffing up pillows in the guest bedroom and realizing just what he had gotten himself into. He had told Frank to settle down in the living room while he prepared the bed, and caught a glimpse of Frank's laptop wallpaper. It was an atrocious drawing of a furry dog man with bulging muscles, what Gerard knew to be a large erect dog penis covered only by a text box. This person was going to be staying in his home for one week. The pillow Gerard had been holding was flung against the headboard, a couple feathers (or perhaps clouds of dust) slipping out of it and falling onto the sheets. Sheets that had an excellent chance of being covered in weird bestiality-dream produced semen. 

 

Gerard stared at the bed and the mess he had landed himself into as he began to hear music coming from the living room. Some kind of loud, abrasive, electronic music. He swore that there were screaming anime girls layered on top of it all as well. Or perhaps that was just Frank singing along. No, it was definitely Frank singing along. He had given this man--this strange, furry little man--the grace of his hospitality for less than a day, and this was already how things were beginning. To Gerard, it seemed as though it could only get worse.

 

Things didn't get as worse as Gerard expected them to. He expected large amounts of sweaty laundry to pile up, filthy dishes in the sink, loud hollering and music at all hours of the night, and of course bringing in strange women, men? (Gerard assumed men, based on the wallpaper) in and out of the house for illicit sex. But aside from the loud music, Frank was almost an ideal roommate. Gerard barely saw him, the door to the guest bedroom remaining tightly shut except for when Frank went to the door to pick up box after box of take-out. He took his own trash out, too, with no smell or mess to be spoken of. Gerard hadn't actually been in Frank's room, but he was sensitive to the odors of his own home. He would know if anything had been significantly altered.

 

Nothing was, but it didn't ease Gerard's tensions and anxieties about Frank staying inside his home. He was barely able to work on any of his time sensitive projects, and was so distracted trying to eavesdrop through the walls to whatever Frank was doing that he couldn't pay attention to what he himself was supposed to be doing. It was pathetic, and it nearly caused him to miss an important phone call from his editor, too. A phone call telling him that he needed to be at the hotel sooner than usual, that he had a new press conference to make attendance at. It turned out that Gerard needed to be there in six hours as opposed to two days.

 

Gerard rushed out of his room, going to bang on Frank's door briefly before wrenching it open. Frank was sitting in the bed in his underwear, hair greasy and hanging in his face as he typed away at his computer, not looking up from it to see Gerard in his state of panic. 

 

"Frank! We need to leave, now!"

 

"Yeah, right. Your editor called?" Frank said, still not looking up from the screen.

 

"How did you--"

 

"I heard," Frank said, typing away as Gerard ran his hands through his (freshly dyed) red hair, fingers tugging at it.

 

"So?! Are you going to come with me, aren't we leaving?"

 

"I'll be five minutes. You go pack, I know you'll be longer than that," Frank said calmly, shutting his laptop screen and pushing himself off of the bed. Gerard frowned at his half-dressed roommate, frowned at how calmly Frank scratched at his droopy ass in his (fucking paw-print patterned) boxer shorts. "Go on," Frank said again. "I'll be fine."

 

Gerard stormed out of the room, mentally calculating the estimated times of travel to San Diego combined with the amount of time that was going to be needed for him to pack. There were too many things that he needed to stash inside of too small of a suitcase, along with file folders stuffed with documents, a special suitcase for his costume, the Mousekat head, and not to mention all of Frank's shit. Gerard angrily clenched his fists, a fresh wave of resentment washing over him. If not for all of Frank's creepy garbage, he'd have twice the room in his trunk. 

 

To properly enunciate his resentment of Frank, Gerard gave his suitcase an angry kick.

 

It took Gerard far longer than he expected to pack, an awful combination of efforts to take too much and consolidate items that simply wouldn't fit. When he finally emerged from his own room, he saw Frank sprawled atop of two bulging suitcases, texting away on his phone as if there wasn't half a sense of urgency hovering over the situation. Gerard opened his mouth, about to snap at Frank, but he was up and on his feet before he could get the words out of his mouth.

 

"Ready to go?" Frank asked, depositing his cell phone into his pocket.

 

Gerard gaped at Frank, gaped at the audacity this man--this disgusting, kinky, tiny stump of a man--was displaying before him. As if Gerard wasn't swimming in stress up to his nose, as if he didn't have so many things to do. Frank didn't even react to Gerard's obvious state of upset. He just picked up his luggage and started rolling it out the door, as though Gerard wasn't even there.

 

Upon getting in the car and getting a decent ways down the road, Frank's phone began to go off. There was no ringtone, only a harsh, tinny vibration that startled Gerard nearly into the shoulder of the highway. He fumed, clenching the steering wheel tighter as Frank picked up . The conversation transitioned into one peppered with jargon Gerard had absolutely no familiarity with, one regarding what seemed to be music-related, although he couldn't say for sure. He heard the word "turntable," but he wasn't sure if Frank was using it to reference the actual piece of equipment or some awful sort of spinning blowjob ritual.

 

Frank's voice was too loud for the confines of the car, and it grated on Gerard's ears. He couldn't help but hear the drop in Frank's voice as he went from congratulation whoever was on the phone for his finished "bunny jumper" in high, enthusiastic tones to a low, almost seductive question of when they should meet up at the convention. Gerard shuddered at the thought of Frank doing god knows what with some bastardized Easter Bunny.

 

The phone call couldn't finish itself quickly enough, Gerard's patience growing thinner by the second. He had just started praying for one of the large semi trucks on the highway to steer itself into his vehicle to put him out of his misery. He had heard too many uncomfortable words falling out of Frank's mouth, and didn't want to think about what plans Frank was cooking up.

 

"You're not going to have anyone over to-to our room at the con, will you?" Gerard asked, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his question. There was really no good way to ask someone to keep their weird sex life far, far away from him. 

 

Frank looked at Gerard for a moment, raising his eyebrows and smirking. "Why do you ask? Going to need some privacy for yourself?" he said, smacking and licking his lips.

 

Gerard's face flamed, and he didn't speak to Frank for the rest of the drive.

 

\----------

 

As soon as they had checked in and deposited their luggage at the hotel, Frank politely excused himself from Gerard's company and disappeared for the next two days. He failed to return to the room he and Gerard were sharing, aside from one time when Gerard caught him hustling out the door with a stuffed backpack slung over his shoulder. "Whoops, sorry!" Frank chortled casually as he knocked into Gerard. Gerard brushed Frank off of his shoulder, already irritated enough.

 

He had been in and out of meetings the entire time he'd been in San Diego. Until now, the night before the start of the convention. Now, when his stress levels had skyrocketed out of every capillary in his body, one set in his face fracturing into an unsightly purple blotch. He supposed he could cover it up with some cleverly placed makeup, makeup to give the illusion of desert dirt, or something clever. If he acted like it was clever, he was sure the fans would by it. They'd swallow down anything if they were fed it correctly. 

 

Gerard was only interested in his bed swallowing him at the moment, though. Tomorrow was Friday, and sure to be the worst day of the con for himself. He didn't have much to do, barely anything regarding scheduled appearances or meet and greets. The key word here was "scheduled." All Gerard had to do today was wander around the con, browse panels and dealers tables at his leisure. It was the worst type of day, and although he had scheduled his panel for Saturday, he wished to god it would've been on Friday instead.

 

Walking around at his leisure meant the fans were going to have every opportunity in the world to bombard him, to harass him, and for the ones in the worst cosplays (it was always those) to scream at the sight of him, to run towards him and attempt to leap up at him and smother him with hugs, with ugly drooling kisses. Gerard would normally hope for his hair to serve as camouflage, but he couldn't even reveal it until tomorrow. Not only was it an inconvenience to be hassled by fans, but double the inconvenience to have to wear an itchy wig coupled with a beanie all day.

 

Gerard took his rest that evening in silence, with no distraction or interference provided by Frank. Around three in the morning, Gerard was briefly woken up by the door creaking open and luggage plopping onto the other bed in the room. He blinked briefly, but fell back asleep just as fast. Wherever Frank had been, Gerard wasn't going to edit his con timetable to include a nighttime spot for Frank to slide into. 

 

Friday's timetable was stuffed with shopping, periodically adjusting his hairpieces and sunglasses, and making many stops-both publicity oriented and personal-at different dealer's booths. They were all aware of his upcoming comic, and nearly everyone he met pestered him about an official release date for the comic itself as well as merch. Merchandising opportunities were always the greatest concern at these conventions, and Gerard had to excuse himself to the restroom where he emptied his business card stuffed pockets into the toilets, flushed, and strode outside to collect more.

 

Coming out of the bathroom, Gerard immediately bumped into a large, white, fluffy mass. "Watch it!" he snapped, hand immediately flying up to his head to straighten his wig and hat. "Can you not fucking see?"

 

The culprit raised a set of large, fluffy paws to Gerard, stepping away slowly without any words. Looking at it closer, Gerard saw it was a wolf fursuit. A big, white, shaggy wolf, with large black eyes (they blinked!) and a pink plastic tongue flopping out of the constructed head. The white fur was tipped with orange tips in some places, gray in others. Gerard thought it was strange, stupid for a wolf, but he had seen more ridiculous fursuits when he was browsing for someone to construct his Mousekat head for him. At least it wasn't a rainbow, glittering atrocity.

 

Despite his best efforts to busy himself throughout the rest of the con's Friday, Gerard still found himself stuck on his encounter with the fursuit. Perhaps he had become more familiar with the "furry" culture than ever desired, through the process of his research, or perhaps he was just interested in it on an aesthetic level. The fur had been softer than he expected, even softer than the fur used in his own suit head. Even through the thick layer of fabric, the bump had given Gerard a brush of contact with the warm human body clothed underneath of it.

 

That was another thing, a thing Gerard failed to understand regarding the furry community. Did they wear clothes beneath the suits? Or did they just flop around in sweaty, unlayered glory, deviants that they were? Gerard briefly wondered if the furry that had bumped into him had been wearing anything underneath, or if he was perhaps the type to deliberately bump into people, knock his genitalia into strangers. There had been plenty of people like that around SVA when Gerard was still living in New York, and he wouldn't be surprised if such deviancy extended itself out of the semen-stained subway seats and into the furry community.

 

Gerard had experienced such deviancy firsthand, a large, slimy man sliding up behind him to grind against his ass. While Gerard had worn drag to school on that particular subway trip, and while he was recovering from the first night out that proved his homosexuality, it didn't mean that he had wanted any random dick on the public transit system. It could be supposed that someone would have accused him of deviancy, a pudgy boy in makeup posing as a dumpy art student dyke. But makeup wasn't deviant in Gerard's mind, whether it was lipstick or theater shading. Theater shading was what Gerard was concerned with currently, on his way up to the hotel room for the night after a final round of socializing. He couldn't just become Party Poison without doing some practice first, and he had a good amount of time left before his insomnia would allow him to put himself down.

 

Ignoring the "do not disturb" sign on the door, Gerard shoved his key into the reader slot and turned the handle abruptly, tossing his backpack on the bed and crouching down to rummage through his suitcase. Makeup bag in hand, Gerard was about to settle himself with a brush and a lot of "dirty desert effect" on his cheeks when he looked up to the bathroom, realizing he wasn't alone. Gerard's jaw dropped as he saw the illicit sight leaning over the bathroom sink, with the creator of the scene looking equally surprised.

 

Frank was bent over the counter, cheeks flushed and sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he slowly pulled his hand away from his rear. Gerard's eyes dropped down to it, past the ring of tattoos around Frank's hips to the pale, round flesh of Frank's ass, the dark end of something barely poking out of it. His other arm was strained on the counter top, clenching it tightly as he moved a thigh to conceal his cock from Gerard. It failed though, the head of it twitching before Gerard's eyes right before Frank's leg hitched up. The shift of movement showed off Frank's ass better than before, and the makeup bag dropped from Gerard's hand as he realized it was a plug.

 

His logical side overriding his shock, Gerard recalled his previous experience with butt plugs--once, with an ex boyfriend who took him online and pressed him to pick out anal accessories, bondage gear, and the like. Gerard had gone running from that boy and his bedroom, yet here was another boy with the same sick interests standing in his bathroom. At Frank's feet, where normally a cold tile floor was, a thick plush fursuit was piled around his ankles.

 

Gerard's stomach turned as he recognized the suit to be the one that he had encountered earlier in front of the bathroom. His question of what furries wore beneath their suits had just been answered, as he noticed the tiny pair of underpants clinging around Frank's ankles as well. They kept on underwear, underwear and nothing else. At least on the outside. Clearly, Frank's idea of accessorizing was held inside of him.

 

"Gerard, hey," Frank panted, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. "I-I was just about to leave, going to go meet some friends for the...evening. I mean, I have to attend to the rave first. I-I'm DJ'ing that, but--uh--" Frank quickly bent down to yank up his underpants, snatching up the lube on the counter with even greater haste. Gerard's eyes widened as he noticed the small puddle of it remaining on the counter where Frank had removed the bottle. 

 

"What the hell is this?" Gerard sputtered, yanking his beanie and wig off of his head. He knew that his hair looked ridiculous beneath, sweaty and sticking up in curls all over the place, but he couldn't leave the masses on his head there any longer. He was overheated enough without the extra weight to steam him any more.

 

"Hey, calm down. I thought you were going to be out longer," Frank said, his voice calmer as he wiggled his hips more comfortably into his underwear, pulling the fursuit up over his shoulder and zipping it up. Without the paws and headset, Frank looked very much like he was simply wearing a big, fluffy pair of pajamas. "If I had known you'd be returning, I would've locked the door. Sorry for startling you."

 

Gerard didn't enter the bathroom after Frank left it, or even after Frank had left the hotel room completely, fursuit assembled and backpack slung over his shoulder. He sat on the bed, staring at the bright light coming from the bathroom door, seeing Frank over the counter over and over again in his head. He had no idea why a furry would shove something like that up their ass, no idea why anyone would do that. He knew some furries wore diapers, and he was at least glad that he hadn't walked in on Frank strapping a pair of Pull-Ups around his hips. Frank's hips, Gerard thought, trapped beneath those thick layers of cloth and fur. He wondered why Frank did it. Why Frank dressed the way he did, why he had been assembling himself in the bathroom like he did--and why he was so aloof.

 

No one was aloof to Gerard Way. That was his role to everyone else. Irritated, he snatched up the makeup bag again, storming into the bathroom to try on some new tricks--tricks in the way of eyeliner and lipstick. Pulling on his tightest jeans and his baggiest sweatshirt, Gerard fluffed up his hair and patted his pockets for the room key and his sunglasses. He was going to go to the rave.

 

Realizing halfway through his walk that he couldn't very well put on sunglasses inside a dark room, he stopped by one of the first aid areas to grab a cheap paper anti-contamination mask. Like many popular anime characters had done before him, he slid it over the lower half of his face, shaking his hair to cover his eyes. This was a far better and far, far more aesthetically pleasing disguise than he had previously thought.

 

Feeling like his character, Party Poison, sneaking into the Better Living Industries headquarters (a story to be debuted in volume 15), Gerard flashed his badge to the door monitor and entered the rave with little resistance. Moving through a gyrating crowd and flailing limbs, Gerard blinked in the flashing lights and squinted in the darkness to try and draw himself nearer to the head DJ booth, where Frank had to be dwelling.

 

And there he was, heavily furred paws removed to show off his small, tattooed hands, glowing green under the light show. His face was concealed by the fursuit head, and as Gerard looked at it, he could finally start to see the similarities in construction between Frank's head and the Mousekat head. Frank really was an expert at what he did, the stitching, the assembly, the small attentions to details. Frank was talented, Gerard had to admit. And not only at fursuit construction. The music booming through the rave room was also great. As little as Gerard knew about the genre, he could at least appreciate it for what it was. He watched Frank, operating the equipment with no interruptions until briefly, very briefly he tilted his head up in Gerard's direction. Ears flopping, he volunteered Gerard a tiny wave.

 

That was when Gerard knew it was time to leave.

 

Angrily, he stomped out of the rave. He was unable to escape the music of it, though, the loud, thick bass beats following him down the hall. He felt sick with it, the vibrations turning his stomach and shaking his very skin. He hated this, the curiosity he was swamped with in regard to the entire mess. He didn't have time to deal with trying to decipher Frank's costumes, or his purpose at this convention, or anything else regarding that unwanted roommate he had been saddled with. 

 

When he returned to the hotel room, he noticed a card key sitting on the nightstand. It wasn't his card key, obviously, and the fact that it was next to Frank's bed increased the obvious facts in the situation, with the card clearly belonging to Frank. Gerard's blood boiled at the sight of it, and the realization that the proper thing for Gerard to do in this situation was to return from the downstairs hellhole he had just escaped from, and return the card to Frank.

 

Gerard knocked the card off of the nightstand, letting it fly under the bed out of his sight, and crawled into the covers of his own bed, promptly shutting his eyes and pushing himself towards sleep. It took him too long to fall asleep, tossing, turning, and occasionally popping out of a dream to the sound of knocking after he did fall asleep. But in between dreams he could roll over safely, and have the freedom to distance himself from the whole thing. 

 

\---

 

When Gerard awoke the next morning, he delicately sorted and placed the thick, greasy tendrils of hair on his head to frame his face properly, just as it was framed inside of the concept art that was about to be distributed in small, just small enough, teaser posters for the fans to shriek over at his panel later. He squirmed into his tight gray jeans, zipped up his thick black boots, and carefully straightened out the blue leather of his custom made (Akira inspired) jacket. He looked perfect, he thought to himself as he began smearing dirt paint on his cheeks to really amplify the desert smear. The finishing touch was sitting on the floor near his bed, where it had been since arrival at the hotel. Still in its box, the blue fur was as fluffy and perfect as it ever was. Frank had done well in its construction.

 

Trying not to think of Frank, Gerard scowled and picked up the head, securing it over his own head to bounce around and finally to rest on his shoulders. Blinking through the large, perfectly placed eye holes, Gerard took a good look at himself in the mirror. He looked perfect. The colors lined up exactly as they should, with everything else lining up just as well with it. To practice his debut at his panel, Gerard removed the head from his shoulders, flamboyantly shaking his head and letting his red hair fly around his face. The effect was just as he'd imagined it, and he was sure that the fans were going to lose it when he took his seat at his panel.

 

Placing the head over his own once more, Gerard opened the hotel door and stepped out to start down the stairs. As soon as he opened the door, though, he noticed a large, fluffy mass of fur beside the door, slumped against the wall. It was Frank, fursuit head off with his messy hair exposed. There was a smattering of hickeys on his neck, the rest of his body curled into a small ball. Gerard frowned in repulsion at the hickeys, then realized that Frank had been the one knocking, waking Gerard up in the middle of the night. Clearly Frank had been to some kind of sick furry orgy, with the events of yesterday as well as the hickeys of the present, but Gerard didn't understand why Frank couldn't have just stayed there.

 

Huffing as he went against his better judgement, Gerard opened the hotel door again and roughly dragged Frank inside. He didn't go as far as to lift Frank onto the bed, but deposited him "close enough" in the inner hallway of the room. He left promptly afterwards, kicking the door behind him. He wiped his hands off on the front of his jeans, trying to shake the lingering warmth of Frank that still clung to them, irritating and persistent. Frank had been damp with sweat, cold and clammy through the fursuit. Briefly, Gerard realized that Frank was dressed, Frank remained exactly the same as yesterday. His stomach flipped as his mind prompted the question of if the thing from yesterday was still there. If the plug was where it had been placed in Frank's ass less than twenty-four hours ago.

 

Gerard removed himself from the situation as quickly as possible, not allowing that thought to compromise how tight his jeans were. He had a panel to run, and that was his priority right now. He would not be late on any accord.

 

\------------

 

Many hours later, hours of shrieking fangirls, a panel that was full to the rim with people listening to him reveal the comic, encountering more people that had been made to view his announcement in an overflow room via television, Gerard considered the revelation of his Killjoy comic to be a sound success. The reaction to himself unveiling his identity from beneath his costume had been just as he'd hoped, and he even had a very small fan come up and ask him to try on the headpiece. A bubbly girl with thick curls on her head, Gerard had been forced to remove himself from the fans briefly, due to the urgency of needing to input a new story arc into his phone. The girl, or "The Girl," as Gerard marked her down, was soon to have a very important role inside of the comic. Parental consent wasn't necessary. They couldn't call him out based on a faint similarity in character design.

 

He saw many less remarkable fans, posing for photograph after photograph and signing autograph after autograph. Gerard smeared the same smirk on his phase with each camera flash, emulating Party Poison the best way he knew how. Confident and fearless, the character was exceptionally close to how Gerard imagined he himself would be, should presented in such a situation as the one written out inside of the Killjoys universe. Party Poison worked alone, just as Gerard did. And he was immensely successful in his work.

 

The con staff soon swarmed Gerard, letting him know that the room had to be set up for the next event soon. Gerard cordially made his farewell, a flurry of fans following him down the hall. He was soon whisked off away from them into a press conference, where he made many more official statements, discussing plans and plot in a more professional setting. Cameras flashed all around him, and he leaned easily into their attention, body cooly sliding across the cheap plastic table he was seated at.

 

It was a brilliant press event, a perfect first bout of publicity. There would be many more after this, more events on a grander scale, interviews and news reviews and an entire horde of media about to envelop him inside a nest of attention for the next six months or so. It was a perfect incubation period to build up hype for his comic prior to the scheduled release date. All things were going exactly the way Gerard had planned, and after the hours had all escaped him, after he took dinner with the other big names attending the con, he made his way back to the convention inside of a happy cloud of success.

 

It was when he arrived back at the hotel room that his stomach sank again. His key card slid into the slot, opening the door to Frank, buried beneath the blankets, cloaked by sheets, laptop, and apparently nothing else. His torso was exposed, at least, showing off a myriad of other bruises and bite marks. "Did the head go over well?" Frank asked, not looking up from his computer.

 

"It went well," Gerard snapped, not wanting to engage in a conversation with Frank. He stomped over to his own bed, pulling out his own laptop and sliding into a chair. He would not assume the same position as Frank, would not leave himself so vulnerable as to be in a bed. He had things to do online anyway, blogs to scroll through and reviews to check. As he suspected, Googling both his name and the name of his comic resulted in article after article, and all of them written within the past few hours. Everyone was going nuts over him.

 

Gerard was only going nuts over Frank. It was unfair and inconsiderate for Frank to dare penetrate his thoughts, unfair of someone as low, as insignificant as he to tread on the time of Gerard Way. Gerard was surely important enough, as evidenced by the way his day had gone. Everyone was after Gerard Way. Everyone! And Gerard realized, if anything, the fact that Frank was casually denying him any attention while at the same time sapping so much of Gerard's attention, that was what was bothering Gerard the most. 

 

"If you were...weirded out by what you saw the other night, I'm sorry about that. I didn't know you would be stopping through the room that early. Should've locked the door. Sorry," Frank said calmly, adjusting himself in bed. The blankets slid a little farther down his body, highlighting just a little bit more of his torso.

 

Gerard's entire body froze except for one knee, which roughly jerked up, toppling his laptop almost off of where it was resting on his thighs. Frank just brought it up. Frank acknowledged that flithy, awful memory that had been plaguing Gerard since yesterday. "Well, I can't think of anyone who wouldn't be weirded out by it," Gerard snapped, the words falling out of his mouth before he realized the act of him gracing Frank with a response. 

 

"Many people at this con, actually," Frank said, still not looking up from his computer. "Or wait, were you talking about the suit or the plug? Because you, Mr.Mousey Cat, have no room to criticize about suits."

 

"It's Mousekat!"

 

"Tomato, tomato," Frank scoffed. "That confirms it's the plug, then. Sorry you're less than familiar with it, but it's common in the circle I run with."

 

"And what the hell do you do in your--your circle?" Gerard frowned, sitting up straighter and slamming his laptop shut. "Is it some kind of circle jerk, is that it?"

 

"Occasionally. At least, that's what last night was. Some old friends wanted to get back in touch with me after I finished my sound set," Frank smirked. "And I can't say that it doesn't help me ah, prepare the set itself a little bit better. It revs me up to perform, if you get what I mean."

 

Gerard grimaced. "Disgusting."

 

"Only because you've never tried it. Or are the rumors about Gerard Way, comic prodigy, potential homosexual all true?"

 

"Those aren't true!" Gerard retorted in horror. He was well aware of all the posts on message boards across the internet, picking apart his interviews, his manner of dress, the subtext in every comic he had ever put out. The official answer was that Gerard was "married to his work." The unofficial answer was that he refused to act on anything, not in this time of living, not after everything that had happened in art school. And it was even worse that there were a few posts, tucked away in the back corners of the internet, that referenced those unfortunate times in art school. They were only rumors. Nothing more. As far as anyone else would know, they were only rumors, only at all.

 

"Are they untrue? So, then. You've never had an anal experience, is that it?" Frank inquired, blinking slowly at Gerard.

 

"Don't phrase it that way!"

 

"Never been fucked in the ass?"

 

"Or like that!"

 

"Well, if you're so hung up on the idea, it's not that I couldn't--"

 

"I'm not hung up on it!"

 

"You're not? Really then? And is that why you've been side eyeing me, breathing heavy, being a fucking creep the whole time you've been in here?"

 

"It's fucking weird, that's it! That's the problem! All the--the weird shit you and your furry friends do!"

 

"Don't know it's weird until you try it."

 

"Why the hell would I ever want to try that shit?" Gerard sputtered, pushing himself on his feet. "You--"

 

"Wanna give that Mousekat head a try?" Frank said, shutting his own laptop and folding his hands over his stomach. "It's obvious that you've been thinking about it."

 

"I haven't been thinking about it," Gerard snapped back, weaker than his retorts had been before. 

 

"Get the head, Gerard. Just stop bitching and do it," Frank said cooly, pushing himself up a little higher on the bed. "Or just close your eyes and wait for me to get dressed again. Let me show off the dirty shit."

 

Gerard stood, feeling stupid in his half formed costume, feeling the weight of the grease in his hair settling down on his forehead. He realized just how easy it would be for Frank to pull down on the length of it, hold him down. And then he realized he could've had the whole week prior to this to act on such things. After the disaster of 1999, after all that shit in art school, he had been in the vicinity of another oriented man, in the close proximity of someone "like him," someone clearly loose--for the first time in years--and he hadn't acted on it. 

 

He was so, so stupid. But not stupid enough to let the last night of opportunity slip past as well.

 

Gerard walked to the table where he had placed the head, picking it up and holding it in front of him. "Go ahead and dress yourself up," Gerard said slowly, wondering if his thoughts about Frank having nothing on beneath the covers had been true. 

 

"Is that what you want? Want to see how other furs do it?" 

 

"Just hurry up," Gerard hissed, starting to feel the anticipation swelling in his jeans. 

 

"Get down, unzip yourself. You're not full suited, so you can keep to your underwear. And the head, of course."

 

"But--"

 

"Are you interested, or not?"

 

Gerard shut up at that point, figuring that the whole situation would probably be easier on him at this point if he just shut his mouth and complied with Frank. It would be easier on him, and maybe prevent things from going the way they had in art school. He let the Party Poison jacket fall off of him, reducing himself to the tank top underneath, and then tossing off his boots and jeans. Gerard felt stupid, settling down onto the cool sheets with his Mousekat head bumping loudly, clumsily against the headboard. He hoped that the neighbors in the adjacent hotel room hadn't heard anything. He also hoped that they wouldn't hear any noises that could present themselves later. Later in the events of whatever was about to happen with him and Frank.

 

He closed his eyes inside of the dark, stuffy shell of the Mousekat head, feeling the contrast between the interior of the headpiece and the cool, overwhelming space of the hotel room air conditioning around him. There was a rustling from the other side of the room, the sound of something heavy being put on and being zipped up. It was Frank, Gerard realized. His breath was growing hotter inside of the Mousekat head, and he could feel sweat starting to form on his forehead and his cheeks. He wished that he could see better through the eyes of the head, but it was a limited perspective. Not limited enough to have impeded him in his strutting around the convention earlier, but enough now to keep him from catching enough of a view to satisfy his current curiosity.

 

He didn't need to see to satisfy himself, though. Settling on top of his thighs, he felt the stocky, condensed weight of Frank that he realized he had been wondering about since Frank had arrived at his house. Soft fur skimmed over his legs, making Gerard's thin hairs prickle under the thick, rich plush of whatever Frank's fursuit was made out of. It was warm and heavy on his legs, and Frank's hands, tucked inside of paws, were silky and dense on top of his chest. Gerard briefly wished that he had taken off his shirt as well, but he then realized he didn't need to, with Frank slipping his paws beneath the hem of Gerard's shirt.

 

"How's that feel, Party?" Frank said softly, dragging the tip of a plastic claw down Gerard's side.

 

"How did--"

 

Frank laughed to himself. "You think I'm not familiar with Gerard Way's work? I've read all your shit, just like everyone else. Went to your panel, too."

 

"I didn't see you," Gerard breathed beneath the head, fighting the urge to kick his hips up into the thick white fur of Frank's hips.

 

"Must've not looked enough. Too far up your own ass all the time, Mr.Way. Gotta get humble," Frank said before ducking down to nip at Gerard's shoulder. It was now apparent that he hadn't put on the head to his own fursuit, apparent in the sharp graze of teeth against skin. Frank's canines were as good as any dog.

 

Frank pushed himself harder into Gerard's front, making it obvious how hard he was. Even through the thick layer of suit and the thin layer of Gerard's boxers, it was as noticeable as if they were skin to skin. Gerard wanted to be skin to skin, he thought, grabbing at the front of Frank's suit and grinding his own hips into him at last. He was burning up inside of the Mousekat head at this point, his skin sticking damp to the fur covering Frank's body. "Are you still plugged?" Gerard found himself asking, gasping before he realized what he was saying.

 

"I'm not. Do you want to be?" Frank replied, his breath hot against the edge of Gerard's nipple.

 

"I-I--" Gerard couldn't put together a coherent answer before Frank bit at him again, chewing on the edge where pale flesh met tender pink. "Yeah, yes, fuck--just--put something--"

 

Gerard hadn't been penetrated in years, and never by someone's tongue. But Frank wasn't about to take off his paw pads, not yet. Swiftly, quickly traveling down Gerard's ribcage, moving in a coherent lick past hips and pausing to grab elastic in his teeth, Frank pulled Gerard's boxers down past his ankles and off Gerard's own "hindpaws". The next thing Gerard felt, the seconds moving too fast to separate, was Frank's furry hands on the backs of his thighs, pushing him up to fold his knees to his shoulders as Frank buried his head between Gerard's legs, nuzzling his ballsack before darting his tongue out to lick at Gerard's asshole. 

 

That sent Gerard squirming, kicking, sprawling out and letting the most embarrassing moan he'd allowed himself in years. He heard Frank laugh into his taint, bumping his nose--or perhaps it would be referred to as a snout in this context--into Gerard's balls again before returning to tongue at the opening, deftly flicking around the entrance before pushing himself, warm and wet inside of him. "Do you want more?" Frank asked, quiet between Gerard's thighs. But Gerard didn't so much hear the words as he felt them, bouncing against the goosebump flesh of his legs.

 

"Please," Gerard whispered, then regretting his decision as Frank raised himself off Gerard, cutting contact and pulling away. "Hey, n-no--"

 

"Shhh," Frank said, unzipping himself slowly. 

 

Gerard only heard him, couldn't see him, couldn't see straight at this point much less see through the head. He heard Frank moving around, fumbling for things, and then he felt his ass slimed up with something, felt fingers go in him easier than he had expected. There was hardly any resistance on Gerard's part, and he felt almost embarrassed with how easy it was for Frank to enter him. He heard Frank laughing too, and his embarrassment was heightened. "C-can I take off my--"

 

"No. You stay in that head. This is what you wanted, this is what you get," Frank said, leaving no room for argument as he worked a third finger into Gerard's ass. That provided resistance, Gerard gasping and moaning as he was filled up more. "Shh, this isn't all."

 

"Better not be," Gerard scowled, letting his legs fall a little farther apart, letting his hips raise up a little more to provide Frank a more convenient angle.

 

Frank didn't respond to him in words, but rather by pulling his fingers out of Gerard's ass, thick with wetness down to them bottom knuckles. The air was cold and harsh against Gerard's exposed hole, but it didn't remain exposed for long. There was a new pressure pushing for entrance, a cold, plastic contrast to the warmth of Frank's stubby fingers. Gerard's stomach hitched as he realized what it was, the intruding object being the same that he had caught Frank shoving into his own ass the other day.

 

"You wanted the experience, didn't you?" Frank cooed, roughly pushing the plug into Gerard's ass. Gerard cried out, trying to bear his hips down harder into Frank's hand. "I should send you down to walk around like this. Make you feel the same thrill I do, yeah?"

 

"Fuck," Gerard gasped, feeling his ass stretch out, so much, nearly too much around the plastic.

 

"Too bad you don't have another interview you could be going to, huh?"

 

"Schedule me one," Gerard panted, reaching out to try and grab Frank. Frank swatted his desperate hand away, and Gerard tried to squint through the holes of the Mousekat head to discern Frank's expression. He couldn't.

 

"Just lie back down and be a good boy," Frank said, his voice dropping down lower as he pushed the plug all the way into Gerard, grinning as he heard Gerard moan and watched the pink of his asshole seal tightly around the stem leading to the plug base.

 

"Frank, I--"

 

"What, what is it?" Frank asked, dragging a nail along the soft curve of Gerard's rear. 

 

"I want the head off, the suit head. Please," Gerard begged, starting to panic in the sweaty confines of it. "Please let me out."

 

Frank didn't respond, but did reach up over Gerard and tug the head off of his shoulders. Gerard gasped frantically for air, and for the first time since they had started, Gerard was able to see Frank's cock. No longer forced to merely feel it, Gerard had it in his prime line of sight, blinking the sweat out of his eyes and taking in the length, the width, the heavy leakage of cum already coming out of the tip. He wasn't kept to only looking at it for long, because before he truly had time to catch his breath, Frank had grabbed him tightly by the greasy tendrils of his hair, dragging Gerard's face to knock against the rougher fur of his pubic hair, not needing to force Gerard's instinctively gaping mouth to wrap around his wet cock. 

 

Gerard gagged on it at first, tongue slipping and sliding around the mass of it. Frank didn't let up though, only dragging him closer to the base of it, forcing it farther inside of Gerard's mouth. Once Gerard had gotten in more appropriate synch with the pressure of Frank's hand, he let his tongue move more easily, slurping on the tip of it and pausing only to gasp for air. He was aware that he was making a myriad of gross, sloppy sounds, but he was also aware that Frank above him didn't seem to be making any sounds at all. He blinked at the skin of Frank's stomach, trying to piece things together in his mind, but he gave up quickly, allowing Frank to simply fuck his mouth and slip away from in depth thought.

 

Bringing him out of his daze, Frank pulled his cock out of Gerard's mouth with a wet pop. Thrown off, Gerard blinked again at Frank, more slowly this time. The pace of his eyelids twitching matched the slow trickle of the cum running down his chin. Frank hadn't finished in his mouth, though. Frank was moving fast again, too fast for Gerard as he yanked the plug out of Gerard's ass, sending Gerard screaming--yes, screaming--for the first time he had ever allowed such howls to slip out of his throat during intercourse.

 

He wasn't empty long though, as Frank shoved himself into Gerard to fill the space. Frank was thicker, deeper, and so much wetter than the plug had been. Gerard cried out again, straining his back to condense himself better around Frank fucking him. He could feel Frank in him, feel his insides becoming slicker as Frank fucked him bareback--bareback, of all the ways to have a first encounter. Nothing crossed Gerard's mind aside from how good it felt, how incredible it was to have Frank shoving into him and how it was only matched by Frank grabbing his own cock, wrapping his hand around him and jerking him off fast, too fast before Gerard was splattering all over his stomach.

 

Gerard didn't even have the time to comprehend his own orgasm, the first he'd had in ages by any hand, before Frank was finally going loose with noises above him, shoving in too far, much too far in Gerard before he let out one long, loud cry and pulled out of Gerard, half of the cum he had in him ejaculated inside of Gerard's hole, the rest splattering all over the hotel sheets. Gerard finally collapsed his legs, letting them unfold as Frank fell back on his haunches at the edge of the bed. Both panting, neither of them spoke at first.

 

Frank was the first to look up at Gerard, to brush the sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Bark?" he asked, panting and running a hand through the short black tufts sticking out all over.

 

"What?" Gerard asked, accidentally letting his hand fall in the puddle of cum pooled in his stomach.

 

"Bark, yknow? It's what I normally say after--after this kind of stuff. With other people I mean. Sorry man, force of habit." Frank said, seeming to sigh as he yawned and wiped at his eyes.

 

Gerard looked at Frank, giving him a hard stare before flitting his eyes to the Mousekat head, tipped over abandoned on the floor.

 

"Meow."

 

\-------------------

 

One year later, Gerard found himself in his apartment again, preparing to make yet another appearance at Comic Con. This time he was revealing the second incarnation of the Killjoys comic, which had been so popular that the actual deal he had been offered extended to five different arcs now. For this arc, he was adding in Party Poison's sidekick, leaving him to work alone no longer. Short, stocky, and with thick black hair, Gerard was attending Comic Con this year without the Mousekat head, but with himself in a new uniform and the human inspiration for the new addition by his side. 

 

Dialing the phone to the number he had memorized at this point, he gave his greeting to the "bark" that he had become so used to hearing on the other line. "Ready to go, Fun Ghoul?"

 

"You got it, PP."

 

 


End file.
